Her Sister's Keeper
by beckyhughes
Summary: So I did a Becky Hughes one-shot. There are some flashbacks, some of which include *trigger warnings for physical abuse and varying degrees of assault. The story also plays with season six maybes, so I guess they could be spoiler-y? I ficced it trying to get my mojo back for my other fics. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work! • •) I'm posting it anyway.


**Argyll, Scotland, 1866**

" _Where's Elsie?" Maggie Hughes asked, hiking up her skirts and settling herself onto the bed. Before she could acknowledge the answer given, her hand shot out to grip the bedpost._

" _In the other room, hen." her husband replied, standing uneasily in the doorway._ _David, "Dodie" Hughes was many things — farmer, husband, father — and he was also decidedly squeamish._

" _Cannae leave her alone 'till morn," Maggie huffed, the pain subsiding long enough for her to reach down to unfasten the buttons of her blouse, "You'll hafta stay with her as soon as Dr Gilmartin gets here —"_

" _I don't want to leave you," Dodie hesitated, absently stroking the doorframe; as he didn't dare cross the room to stroke his wife's hair._

" _Ack, go on," Maggie said, managing a smile, "I've doon it once, I can do it again," she nodded toward the hallway, "And ye remember how hard she was — second time cannae be so bad as that."_

 _Dodie shrugged, "You'll yell fir me? If ye need any'ting?"_

" _Get away with you," Maggie sighed, her eyes gone soft. She waited until he'd turned and left the room before she exhaled sharply, pressing the heels of her feet into the mattress as another pain ripped through her, turning like a screw in her lower back._

 _In the other room, Elsie Hughes sat quietly at the kitchen table, her feet dangling from the chair, listening for the footfalls of her Da in the hallway. When he rounded the corner, she slowly raised her gaze, waiting to see what he'd do._

" _Elsie, I need you to sit here right quiet, yeah? Your Mam needs the doctor. Remember Dr Gilmartin, he came here when you had fever?"_

 _Elsie nodded, swinging her feet slightly beneath the table._

" _He's coming here to see your Mam."_

" _Is Mam got fever?" Elsie asked quietly, her blue eyes heavy on her father's scruffy face._

" _Nay, it's not like that, my girlie, it's — you remember we told you there was gonna be a bairn?"_

 _Elsie nodded again, the swinging of her legs slowly as she tried to listen harder._

" _The bairn's coming tonight."_

" _Is Dr Gilmartin bringing the bairn?"_

" _No — well — not —" Dodie sighed, kneeling down next to the table and letting his hand rest on Elsie's shoulder. She stiffened under his touch, but only slightly, her eyes boring into his, watching him with an intensity that should have been foreign to a four year old, "You're gonna be a good lass for me, right?"_

 _Elsie nodded._

 _That was all she ever tried to be._

* * *

" _Where's Elsie?" Maggie breathed, looking up at Dodie from the bed, her hair plastered against her face with sweat. Dodie blanched, blinking away from his wife's face, standing straight so quickly that the room spun._

" _Oh bloody hell!" he said, turning to race from the room. When he stepped into the kitchen, Elsie was precisely where he'd left her hours ago — except now she was fast asleep, having crawled up atop the table and curled up tight. He could see the tiny rise and fall of her chest and for a moment, felt a ripple of guilt for waking her. When he scooped her up and laid her head against his shoulder, she didn't wake fully, only yawned in slight protest at being disturbed._

 _When he returned to the bedroom, the baby had been swaddled and placed in Maggie's arms to nurse. He settled in at the foot of the bed, gently patting Elsie's back until she woke up, rubbing her eyes and squinting at him with an air of irritation._

" _That's yer sister. Becky." Dodie said, "See her? Tiny innit she?"_

 _Elsie hesitated, then slipped unsteadily from her father's lap and tiptoed over to her mother's side of the bed, rising up to look into the baby's face._

 _Maggie shifted in bed, undoing the front of her nightgown and attempting to coax the baby to take her breast, "Come on then, luv," she said quietly._

" _Is she a good girl?" Elsie asked, looking up at her mother expectantly. Maggie hesitated, stroking the baby's soft cheek a moment more before sighing, turning to Elsie._

" _She's too young to be a bad girl," she laughed but she eyed Dodie, "And so are you."_

 _Elsie frowned, reaching over to touch the baby's tiny foot. It was all very confusing and she was very tired. The baby began to fuss and Elsie recoiled, pressing herself against the dresser._

" _It's alright, lass, you didn't hurt her," Maggie said, "She's just had a long night. Time for bed, yeah?" she said, looking helplessly at Dodie._

" _Elsie, go on to bed then," Dodie said, pointing to the door._

* * *

 **Downton, Yorkshire, 1925**

"Where's Mrs Hughes?"

Anna looked up from her mending at the butler's unmistakable voice, "Oh, Mr Carson! You startled me. She's gone to her sitting room a bit early — said she wanted to get a head start on the accounts."

Carson frowned, "Hm. Well, thank you Anna. Carry on."

He strode down the darkened hallways of the abbey toward her parlor, a crease of worry permanently marking his brow. She'd been unusually preoccupied all day, so silent at dinner and seemingly distracted that she spilled her wine — something he couldn't remember her ever doing in the twenty-some years he'd eaten with her in the servant's hall. Of course, after his proposal of marriage to her at Christmas, he'd begun to worry that whenever she so much as looked at him sideways it meant she was rescinding her acceptance.

He rapped lightly on her door before pushing in. A certain intimacy granted between them meant that he didn't usually feel odd in doing so, but he immediately regretted it when he saw her turn from her desk, hastily wiping her eyes and making a terrible show of trying to hide her tears.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I should have waited—"

She laughed, sliding a finger delicately beneath her eyelashes, "No, no Mr Carson. It's fine. If we're to be married you'd best be comfortable with my tears."

He winced, closing the door and hesitating by the small table at the edge of her sitting room, "I certainly hope our marriage won't regularly cause you to produce them," he said, his hands twitching nervously at his sides.

"Oh, _go on,_ Mr Carson," she said, sniffling, "Have a seat. Did you need something?"

He sat down slowly, looking around her sitting room to anything that wasn't her face.

"I was . . . _concerned_ about you earlier. Your demeanor seemed. . .a bit off."

She joined him at the table, reaching up to settle a few errant wisps of hair from her face, "I'm a little distracted today, yes, and I'm sorry for it," she bit her lip, looking up at him coyly, "I'm also sorry that I spilled wine on your nice trousers at dinner."

He smiled, reaching across the table to take her hand, "I suppose if we're to be married I'll have to get used to it."

She did smile at this, her eyes sparkling a bit. Though, in the low light of her sitting room, the glistening he saw may have been unshed tears. She lowered her gaze, her hand going limp in his.

"I've had a letter from my sister," she said quietly, "She's responded about our impending marriage."

"Oh?" Charles said—unsure of what to ask of it, really.

"She would . . .she would very much like to meet you," Elsie said, "And if you wouldn't be opposed, she's asked if she might attend our wedding."

"Why on earth would I be opposed? She's your family — the only family you've got left, as it is."

"Well, it's not as though we're what _you'd_ think of as sisters," she said, "I'm almost more like a mother to her and — and she's not quite right, but you know that. I've explained it some but — it would be entirely different for you to see her in person."

"I'll remind you that I've seen quite a bit in my time, Mrs Hughes. There's not much left in the world to shock and unsettle me."

Elsie chuckled, "I find that a tad hard to believe."

But he was serious.

"I wouldn't be _offended_ by her," he said, "Nor does the prospect frighten me. It's not as though she's some raving lunatic. You've said it yourself — she's a bit slow to speak, doesn't like loud noise or lots of people. Has occasional fits but you said as she's gotten older even those have improved —" he shook his head slightly, "I'm not sure I understand why you're upset."

Elsie sighed, "And how could you? You've nothing to compare it to," she let go of his hand so that she could turn, reaching over onto her desk to retrieve a letter. She smoothed the pages out, sliding them across the table for him to read, "See? She scribbles like a child. Her spelling is actually rather good but —"

"She seems rather excited about the whole thing," he said, "You've given me the impression that she would be miserable coming here. . ."

"No, no, it's just —" she paused, then took the letter back from him, "You don't understand what it's like to have to look out for another person in that way. Of course she's excited because she doesn't really understand what it means — _but I do_. It would mean travel, and disrupting her schedule, and new people and places — not to mention food," she looked up at him, imploring him to understand, "Charles, we're talking about someone who's eaten little more than jam sandwiches since she was a wee thing."

Charles looked at her a moment longer, watching as her eyes welled up again. Just as she blinked to try to staunch them, he reached over and took both of her hands in his, squeezing them gently.

"Well, if that's the case, we'll just have to ask Mrs Patmore to arrange for more preserves."

* * *

 **Argyll, Scotland, 1870**

" _Mam, Becky's done it again."_

" _Done what, Elsie?" Maggie sighed, throwing her weight against the bread dough she was kneading._

" _Taken her dress off."_

" _Christ almighty," Maggie snapped, pressing her hands into the dough, a plume of flour puffing up into her face._

" _She's in the barn, mam," Elsie said, hanging back in the doorway, kicking a split piece of wood with her boot. They were falling apart and about a half-size too small, but she knew better than to mention it._

" _What're you standing there for," Maggie yelled, "Go get her before yer Da gets back."_

 _Elsie sighed, turning away from her mother, who continued to mutter as she kneaded bread dough, now less about making it rise, but quelling the anger that rose up within her._

 _Trotting through the field between their little house and the barn, Elsie could hear Becky wailing before she even reached the hay loft. No sooner had she come around the corner then she saw her sister in a heap atop a pile of hay, naked as the day she was born, thrashing and tantruming about. She'd only just turned five, but unlike other children in the village and neighboring farms, she wasn't talking._

 _Mostly all she did was scream._

" _Come on, Becky, Mam wants you to come back to the house," Elsie said, straightening her spine and striding purposefully toward her, "Enough of yer fussing, get up."_

 _Becky continued her wailing, which only stood to further irritate Elsie, who knew they would both be in for a beating when their Da got home._

" _Becky, get up!" she said, reaching down and yanking her sister up by her arm. Realizing a moment too late that she'd hurt her, her face flushed and regret filled her belly like the weight of a stone, "Oh — I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so rough. But if ye don't stop yer wailing we're both gonna get —"_

" _Elsie!"_

 _At the sound of her father's voice, her entire body stiffened — even Becky quieted, her wailing reduced to closed-mouthed whimpers. His heavy footfalls crunching against the dirt floor of the barn were a warning, and she had only a second to pull Becky closer to her chest and scamper into a nearby wheat bin._

" _Quiet doon," Elsie hissed, clasping her hand over Becky's mouth, only to draw it back quickly as she felt teeth sink into her palm — and light from the opening of the bin's lid stinging her eyes._

 _Then, her father's hand stinging her face as it made contact with her face._

* * *

 **Downton, Yorkshire, 1925**

"I'm afraid her train will arrive mid-morning, so we'll have to visit with her _after_ the ceremony." Elsie said, wringing her hands as she paced the well-worn carpets of Charles' office.

"I'm sure that will be agreeable," he said, "She'll be accompanied by someone, yes? We'll arrange for a car to meet them at the station, they should have enough time to settle in and —"

"Oh," Elsie said, shaking her head dismissively, "They'll be staying at the Grantham Arms for the night—"

"Don't be preposterous," he sputtered, "They'll stay here, just the same as any other wedding guests—"

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said.

"Why not?"

Elsie shrugged, settling into a nearby chair, crossing her feet at the ankles and letting her chin come to rest in her hand.

"I suppose I don't understand," he said, leaning back in his chair behind his mighty desk, "I would think the Arms would be a considerably more provoking environment. At least here she could escape to some far-flung room with her carer, find a sanctuary. She'd never find a moment's peace elsewhere. Besides, wouldn't you prefer it if she were close by? Preferably under the same roof? "

Elsie sighed, letting her eyes flutter closed a moment. Echoing her sigh, Charles stood, coming round the front of his desk and pausing where she sat, waiting a moment before he gently laid a hand against her cheek, turning her face slightly up to his.

"It's late. We can talk about it in the morning. I hope you'll sleep?"

She laughed sadly, pressing her face against his warm palm, languishing a moment in the comfort it brought her.

* * *

 _ **Argyll, Scotland, 1873**_

" _Elsie Hughes! Where's your sissy?"_

" _Go on with ye, Andy McGregor," Elsie snarled, pulling her books tighter to her chest. She winced; she'd started to fill out over the summer and now whenever she walked to and fro the village school house, her chest pulled and ached, breasts having seemingly sprung up overnight and giving her nothing but trouble._

" _Did yer Mam finally send her to the madhouse?" Andy teased, stepping into the path ahead of Elsie so that she had to stop short, lest she run straight into him._

" _Haud yer wheesht!_ " _she yelped, "I'm warning ye, Andy McGregor. I'll clap you right in the mouth if ye don't get outta my way."_

" _D'year that, fellas? Elsie Hughes said she's gonna shut me up right," Andy said, turning back to the throng of village boys who had gathered in the path, "The Hughes' finally sent her daft sister off to the madhouse with the rest of the crazies," he turned back to Elsie, "Knowing yer Da, they'll put you on the next train!"_

 _Before she could think better of it, Elsie dropped her books, drew back her fist and clocked Andy straight in the nose. She knew she'd hit him good because as soon as she'd gone and done it, she brought her hand back to her mouth, soothing the stinging pain in her knuckles._

" _You glaikit bitch!" Andy said, staggering back._

" _That'll teach ya not to run your geggie about me sister," Elsie said, blowing a fallen strand of hair from her face. She took another step toward him and kneed him in the stomach, "And that's to warn yer lads to stop keekin' at me!"_

 _She huffed, bending down to retrieve her books, and she didn't see Andy reaching toward her, grabbing her braid so fast that she fell straight forward into the dirt. Before she knew what was happening, more hands flashed before her eyes, tearing her blouse, ripping off her boots — and she screamed until she felt a sharp blow just below her eye._

" _Yer a daft hoor Elsie Hughes!" Andy cackled, shoving his hand up under her blouse. Elsie felt tears stinging her eyes — she didn't want to cry, not in front of them, she didn't want to let them win — but she was scared, and angry and —_

" _Ack! McGregor, ye wee bastart! Get off 'er, get off 'er!"_

 _Her eye swelled shut, she couldn't see the boys dispersing, but she could hear their boots scuffing and smell the turned up dirt around her. She felt a warm, gentler hand on the side of her face, on her lower back, guiding her up so that she was sitting._

" _Yer alright, lass," a voice said. Elsie recognized it immediately — Ms. Brodie, the schoolteacher in the village, "Can ye stand? I'll walk ya home."_

" _I'm fine," Elsie said, her mouth hot and metallic. She must have been bleeding but she wasn't sure from where, or how much, "I've gotta git home before my Da or —"_

" _I'll walk ye home, explain what happened," she turned, looking over her shoulder, shaking her head disparagingly, "You were right to give 'em a smack in the lug. That McGregor lad is a right bastart."_

 _Elsie sighed "Becky's not mad," she said, reaching down to brush the dust from her skirts, "She's a bit daft, mebbe, but she'll never be in the madhouse. I wouldn't let them send her there. "_

" _Yer a kind heart, Elsie Hughes." Ms Brodie said, "C'mon, let's get ye cleaned up."_

* * *

 **Downton, Yorkshire, 1925**

"You seem more nervous about seeing your sister than you did when we walked over to the church," Mrs Patmore said, turning to hang up Elsie's wedding dress on the back of the housekeeper's door. When she turned back, Elsie had donned one of her nicer blouses and was standing before her mirror, contemplating a hat.

"I might well be," she said quietly, smiling at Mrs Patmore in her reflection, "I haven't even seen Becky in several years — I suppose I'm afraid of how much older we are. In my mind she's always been a my wee sister but — now we're both . . ."

"Old but you're not dead yet," Mrs Patmore laughed, "Look at you! A blushing bride when you might well have been a grandmother. . .aren't _you_ the lucky one."

Elsie blushed, then lifted her gaze to the mirror, straightening her updo slightly.

"Do you want me to go fetch Mr Carson — I can only assume he's waiting patiently at the end of the hallway to take you on his arm."

"Let's walk down together," she said, "I need a bit of steadying," she flexed her fingers, giving the cook a nervous smile, "I feel so silly."

Mrs Patmore stepped forward, giving Elsie a light pat on the back, "Well, you look lovely. It was a beautiful ceremony. He didn't take his eyes off you the entire time."

"You think?" Elsie said, biting her lip sweetly, "I was so nervous I nearly forgot our vows."

"It was _lovely,_ " Mrs Patmore said again, "Now let's go on — no more dilly dallying."

As the two women stepped out into the hallway, Elsie could see that Mrs Patmore had been correct in her assertion that Charles would be waiting at the door for her. When he caught sight of them, his face brightened; a sparkling gaze on him that she couldn't remember ever seeing before.

"May I?" he said, offering her his arm, "I think it is well within my right now to inform you that you look positively fetching, _Mrs Carson_." he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. She pursed her lips, looking up at him coyly. He laughed slightly, patting her hand as he lead her down the hall to where Becky and her traveling companion were waiting in one of the larger suites.

The young woman who had arrived with Becky was not someone Elsie recognized, either from her previous visits to Lytham Saint Anne's or her more recent letters. She knew that there was a high rate of staff comings and goings at the home because the changes always upset Becky, who valued consistency and predictability above all else. But when she'd looked out into the pews in the church, spotting Becky straight away despite not knowing where to look for her, she seemed calm.

Though, Elsie knew well that it never took much for her sister to collapse on a single breath — a tempest raging inside her, constantly needing to be quelled.

* * *

 **Argyll, Scotland, 1890**

" _Are ye trying to put me in an early grave, Elsie?" Maggie cried, covering her face with her hands._

" _I'm trying to help, Mam! I can make a good living in service. There's a manor house in Bute, Balmory Hall— they're hiring housemaids —."_

" _A housemaid? Elsie Hughes, you cannae even keep your skirts from gettin' frayed, how do ye think ye'd manage as a housemaid in one of them grand estates?"_

" _I'd learn, Mam. I learned faster than any o' Da's farmhands and I had the highest marks in the village school—"_

" _High marks aren't a dowry, Elsie," Maggie sighed, "You're 28 years old, never had a beau, you farm harder than any of the lads, it's true — but when ye come in at night all yer good for is tucking Becky in, plaiting yer hair and reading yer damn novels."_

" _It's a day's train ride — I'd use my wages to pay for the fair to come home when I can—"_

" _Elsie — I cannae care for her on me on — now that yer Da's gone —"_

" _Becky's fine, Mam. I could send enough money home for you to hire someone from the village help. A carer —"_

" _I'm her Mam, Elsie, if I cannae look after her I may as well put 'er in one of them invalid homes."_

" _She's not an invalid, Mam. Now she's grown she's better 'an she was when we were bairns. She can help you with the chores —"_

" _If she has one of her fits, Elsie — and you weren't here to pull her off me —"_

 _Elsie paused, looking down at her hands, "Oh — Mam. I know. I know that. But maybe she'd —"_

" _And she'd miss ye, so much it'd probably break her heart —"_

" _Mam —"_

" _She loves you. I know she does. Even if she cannae show you."_

 _Elsie felt her throat tighten, a sore lump that bloomed in her chest and clenched her heart, "And I love her too. Very much. So much that I want her to have the best life that she can have ," Elsie stood shakily, smoothing her skirts before she turned from where her mother still sat at the table, "I have to go, Mam. I have to try. It's the only chance we'll have."_

" _Elsie, please —"_

" _What happens when yer gone" Elsie whispered, "I've got to find a way to take care of her — and myself."_

" _Then why don't ye try to find yerself a nice lad — what about the Ainsley boy, Peter? He's a good worker. Not bad lookin' either."_

" _It wouldn't be any different than staying here," Elsie said, her voice rising in exasperation, "We'd never have enough money to care for her — and if I married I'd have a houseful of bairns of me own to feed —"_

" _Don't ye want a life of yer own?" Maggie said quietly, "Don't you want a husband, a nice house all yours? Some of the land of ye Da's, mebbe. And bairns — you know how good you are with Becky. Yer the only one she bloody listens to. You'd be a fine Mam — and a good wife — don't you want your own life, Elsie?" _

_Elsie studied her mother's face for a moment. She'd aged so much, the lines heavily drawn around her eyes, her mouth. Her hair had all but gone gray even though she was hardly old — not even fifty, but she looked so tired. So worn. Her hands were not smooth and refined like Elsie's — instead they were blistered and tanned from her life's work, always digging dirt from under her fingernails. She looked up at Elsie with her deep-set blue eyes and her dry, cracked lips._

" _That's what I'm making to do, Mam," Elsie said quietly, "Have a life of me own."_

* * *

 **Downton, Yorkshire, 1925**

It was her mother's face she saw when they stepped into the bedroom where Becky had been waiting for them. Even though her younger sister was only _just_ younger, she seemed older; her eyes sunken back, lines and wrinkles drawn along her face like streambeds. Still, when she spotted her older sister from across the room, her old eyes lit up like a little girl's.

"Hello sis," she said, her voice a little strange, almost out of tune. But that was how she always sounded in Elsie's memory.

"Hello Becky," Elsie said softly, stepping away from Charles to cross the room. Becky stood, not hesitating to cross the room and throw her arms around her sister in a rather undignified manner. It made Elsie laugh — how refreshing it was to be near someone who was immune from the rules by which she'd lived more than half her life.

"You're old now. You look like Mam," Becky said, her hand flattened awkwardly against Elsie's back. She had been taught to hug, to shake hands — but her movements were always a little stiff, a little rote.

Elsie laughed, "I could say the same thing to _you_ , hen."

"I'm younger," Becky said proudly, taking a few steps back from her sister's embrace. When her gaze fell just beyond Elsie's shoulder, her face turned up into an uncertain little frown.

"Is that your Mr Carson?" Becky asked, her voice a strained whisper.

"Yes," Elsie said, turning to look over her shoulder at him, "This is — my," she smiled, giving a small shrug, "My _husband,_ Charles Carson."

Taking a few steps further into the room, Charles looked at Elsie expectantly. Should he shake the woman's hand? Nod politely?

"Becky, shake Mr Carson's hand," Elsie nudged, pushing her sister toward the towering butler. She noticed how he'd tried to soften his gaze.

"It's very nice to meet you, Becky," he said, his eyes darting from Becky's face to Elsie's.

"Nice to meet you," Becky echoed, not looking him in the eye. She did offer her hand to him, albeit rather limply, and he took it with a gentleness that made Elsie's heart pinch for a moment. Becky turned back to her, feigning another hoarse whisper, "Have you seen his eyebrows? They are very large."

"Becky!" Elsie hissed, "No _cheek._ "

Charles pursed his lips, trying to hide a smile that welled up in him, "I have no doubt that you are Elsie's sister, Becky. You are keenly observant, just as she is."

At this, Becky grinned, turning back to Charles, "You know all the words to your prayers," she said, "During the ceremony, you didn't even have to read your Bible." Charles furrowed his brow, confused.

"Oh — well, _of course_ he does, Becky. He's like you, he can remember everything he reads," she held out her hand to Becky, urging her to sit on the bed next to her. Then, she looked up at Charles, "Becky can remember any verse from the Bible," she said, petting Becky's hair affectionately. Her caretaker must have plaited it for her, because she'd never had the motor skills to do it properly for herself.

"That's very impressive," Charles said, "Do you have a favorite, Becky?"

"Pslam 34: 18: 19: 20, _The_ _Lord_ _is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. The righteous person may have many troubles, but the_ _Lord_ _delivers him from them all; he protects all his bones, not one of them will be broken."_

"You've memorized them?" Charles marveled, "I wonder — do you know JOB 14:7? It's one I rather like."

Becky grinned — reciting without hesitation, " _At least there is_ _hope_ _for a tree: If it is cut down, it will sprout again, and its new shoots will not fail."_

* * *

 **Argyll, Scotland, 1900**

" _It's yer half-day, Elsie, why do we have to ride into town? We coulda gone out on the moor, woulda been a beautiful day for it."_

" _I told ye, Joe, I've got to get the post!"_

" _Let someone else get it!"_

 _Elsie huffed, clicking her tongue so her horse would pick-up its hooves, "I told 'em I'd get it, so Imma get it, Joe. Ye know me, I'm a woman of me word."_

 _From a few paces behind her on the path, she heard his horse whinny, struggling to catch up. So long as she'd known Joe Burns — more than a year now, she reckoned — he'd ridden that same, poor old stallion whenever they rode together. And sure enough, if she went out to his farm to help him birth a calf or bring some of his harvest back to the cook at Balmory, that loyal horse would snort in acknowledgement at her as she walked by the barn._

" _How do you even dare goin' in to town lookin' like that?" he called, the sound of his old horse's hooves growing louder as he trotted up alongside her._

" _Like wot?" Elsie laughed, raising an eyebrow at him._

" _In yer damn breeches!" he laughed, "If the old bat o' Balmory saw you traipsing around, riding astride—"_

" _I might well work in a manor house Joe Burns, but I'm no lady," she said, giving her horse a kick. She cantered off ahead of him, the wind unfurling tendrils of hair from her plaits at the nape of her neck. She let them come undone. For today, there would be no long dresses and caps and aprons —_

" _You might as well be skuddy, wearing trousers like yer some kind of —"_

" _Ye better haud yer weesht, Joe Burns!" Elsie called back, her laughter startling a few people who happened to be on the path ahead of her, "Sorry!" she sang, pulling the reins back and bringing her horse to a slight trot. The postmaster's office was just up ahead, and although Joe had managed to catch up and was already dismounting in order that he might tie up their horses — she swung her leg over and hopped down in one fell swoop, grabbing the reins from his hands and blowing a fallen strand of hair from her face, "I can do it," she said, "Go on — get yer wheat o'er at Mr. O'Roarke's, I'll get the post, then we'll ride back for a bevvy, yah?"_

 _Joe studied her for a moment, a flush coloring his face, "Yer a bonny lass, ye know that?" he said, slightly out of breath, "Even when yer hair's mussed and with yer sodding breeks instead of a skirt. . .I think yer about the handsomest gal I've ever known."_

 _Elsie shook her head, grabbing her satchel from the horse's saddle and slinging it over her shoulder, "Joe Burns we've been chumming into the village together fir o'er a year and every time ya make eyes at me," she leaned in teasingly, "And I told ye, I'm not a woman easily won. If ye want to walk out with me ye'd better stop with the pretty words —"_

 _He leaned over quickly, then, pressing his lips softly to hers. It shocked her, but she didn't pull away. After a long second, he turned away, running a hand nervously through his hair._

" _Shite," he said, "Oh, Elsie, I'm sorry. I'm not gantin', I promise ye. I just —"_

 _"I know," she said quietly, "Now go on with ye."_

* * *

 _On their ride back along the path, they stopped beyond hedgerows under a tree just off the road to sip on an ale Joe had in his pack and nibble on a few biscuits Elsie had pilfered from the kitchen before she'd left Balmory._

" _Why do you always do work on yer half days?" Joe lamented, reaching across Elsie's lap for the bottle of ale, "Yer the hardest workin' lass I've ever known."_

 _Elsie shrugged, "I take pride in my work."_

" _You must'a been one hell of a farm girl," he said, shaking his head, "Ye ever thought of leaving service? Giving farm life another go?"_

" _No," Elsie said, shaking her head, "You know about my sister and my Mam back in Argyll —"_

" _Aye, you said."_

" _Well, I can't leave them high and dry. I make good money in service. Got a roof over me head. The old bat's nice enough, don't bother me any. There's a few daft houseboys, the downstairs is a numpty lot," she said, popping a biscuit into her mouth, "But I've been looking around for a higher position. I could be head housemaid, maybe a housekeeper — I know I could. Mebbe go to a bigger house. In England, even."_

 _Joe blanched, "You want to leave Scotland?"_

" _I dunno, mebbe. Sometimes, I do. I think about it," she said, "If I went somewhere else I'd make a higher wage. Besides, I'd like to see another piece of the world before I'm too old and dried up."_

" _What if you had a reason to stay?"_

 _She looked over at him, her face half cast in shadow from the branches above, "Like what?"_

" _Like. . .what if you had a home of yer own to keep. And a man who loved ye, took care of ye," he looked down at his lap, "—and yer sister."_

 _She blinked, her stomach sinking, "Oh, Joe I —"_

" _I'd like to marry ye, Elsie Hughes. I think I could be a good husband to ye. We could run the farm and it'd do real well. With the two of us — well, we could do real good. And we're not too old for bairns — if ye want them."_

" _Joe—"_

" _I could give you a fine life, Elsie. Really, I could. I'm an honest man and we get on real well. You're a good friend, too, don't that mean something?"_

 _She softened, reaching over to take his hand, "Oh, Joe. . .yer the sweetest man, really, ye are. . .and it does mean something. It means an awful lot to me. . ."_

" _But—?"_

 _She sighed, "I don't want to be that farm girl anymore."_

" _Will you at least think about it?" Joe said, visibly hurt, "Don't say anything until yer sure. Yay or nay, I'll wait."_

" _Yer a sweet lad, Joe Burns. Ye are," she said, "And I will. I'll think on it."_

* * *

 _That night, in her room at Balmory, Elsie lay awake in bed, clutching an unopened letter to her chest. The candle on her nightstand was nearly ready to burn out. When she'd returned from the village and left the mail to be taken upstairs, she noticed a return address that caught her eye._

 _Yorkshire._

 _Snatching the envelope up, her eyes widened when she saw her name in flowing script across the front, she would have torn right into it, but she thought of Joe. Thought of his proposal. Of the life behind her and what could be before her, contingent on whatever was on the parchment she held in her hand._

 _She thought of Becky._

 _And in the dark, in the middle of a warm night when her roommate slept peacefully on the other side of the room, Elsie Hughes sat up in her bed and leaned over into the low light of a flickering candle. She ran her long, elegant finger beneath the seal of the envelope and opened it, lifting out the letter within._

 _ **Dear Miss Hughes,**_

 _ **Your resume and references from Balmory are particularly impressive. You are noted for being bright, kind and efficient; qualities that we insist upon in all our staff, but senior staff in particular. The family seems remiss to lose you, but they found it understandable that you would want the opportunity to take a higher position, given your proficiency.**_

 _ **It would be my pleasure to invite you to Yorkshire so that you might see the estate and meet the staff, at which point I would be delighted to formally offer you the position of head housemaid in person.**_

 _ **I will look forward to your response.**_

 _ **Sincerely,**_

 _ **The Countess of Grantham**_

 _ **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire**_


End file.
